“Lot of practice,” I said. Michael handed me a sewing kit—probably Eve’s, since it was in black patent leather with a death’s head sticker on the back—and went to wash his hands, or lick them clean, whichever. I tried not to think about it. I took his place at Hannah’s side. “Is she awake?”
Hannah’s eyes slowly opened, and she gave me a hard-edged smile. “Still here,” she said. “Lost more plasma than this in the last blood drive.”
“I think you’ve got a sliced vein,” I said. “I don’t know if I can fix it. Either way, it won’t be pretty.”
“Do your worst, kid.” She shut her eyes again. “Scars are the least of my problems.”
I gritted my teeth and pulled the wound open, and immediately saw the vein. It wasn’t far beneath the surface, and it hadn’t been sliced through, just nicked; if it had been an artery, though, she’d have expired already. I handed the sewing kit to Eve. “Fix me a needle,” I said, and grabbed the vein. Claire was still next to me, hovering. “Towel. Clean one. I need something to mop up the blood so I can see.” She dashed off.
Myrnin settled himself in the corner. He’d been to the kitchen, I saw, and come back with a blood pack, which he opened and chugged. I glared at him as Eve handed me back a threaded needle with a thick knot. “Thanks for your help,” I said, as sarcastically as I could. Which was pretty damn sarcastic.
“If I had come near her in my present condition, I wouldn’t have been able to swear to her safety,” Myrnin said, and took another drink. “It’s been a very long, trying day. Proceed.”
I did. The vein was tough to hold on to and stitch, but I managed—it wasn’t pretty, but it held when I let go. I started in on the cut itself, sewing the edges shut. “Hey, Hannah,” I said, “Eve gave me yellow thread. Sorry about that.”
Hannah dredged up a dry laugh. “Festive. I like it.”
Eve watched me anxiously, bottom lip between her teeth, as I finished off the stitches. Claire came back with a towel and I cleaned up the mess as best I could. It wasn’t leaking much now.
“Amelie and Oliver,” Claire said. “They’re upstairs. Someone should see—” She was staring at Eve, but looked away when Eve glanced her way. “See about Jason.”
“What happened to Jason?” Eve asked. She sounded almost resigned, though. As if she already knew.
“I’ll tell you later,” Claire said.
“They made him a vamp,” Eve said, and Claire looked up, fast. “I already knew he wanted it. It’s not a good thing. Not for us, anyway.”
“Definitely not,” Michael agreed, from the doorway. “I checked upstairs. Nobody’s there except a pile of rotting slime. Amelie doesn’t clean up after herself.”
“She doesn’t have to,” Claire said. “She’s the founder. The queen.” There was something about the way she said it that made me wonder what she’d seen. And what was coming.
Myrnin finished his blood pack and said, “They’ve gone to hunt.”
I closed my mouth on the question of Hunt what, exactly?
Because I figured I already knew.
The draug were finished. All of the vampires’ enemies, gone.
The rules of Morganville were changing, and I had the feeling that they wouldn’t be in our favor.
EPILOGUE
CLAIRE
“You’re certain,” Father Joe said. He stood across from Michael and Eve, lit only by the candles burning in the holders on either side of the altar and the sunlight bleeding through the stained glass. “I haven’t seen any paperwork from Amelie allowing you to do this.” Father Joe, Morganville’s resident priest, looked exhausted. They all were exhausted, Claire thought. The lights still weren’t functioning reliably; most of Morganville was in the dark at night, and deserted, though the first buses were scheduled to return today to bring those who’d evacuated back to town. Water was on, and the pipes had been flushed, tested, and declared clean.
Not that Claire was taking any chances yet. Bottled water was a must.
“Amelie’s not the boss of me,” Eve said flatly. She was, Claire thought, very angry about her brother, though she hadn’t talked about it. At all. She looked at Michael. “Or him, either.”
Father Joe gave him a long, considering look. “If Amelie is against this, there’ll be trouble, Michael,” he said. “What you’re asking is binding not only for the church and by law, but in ways that I can’t explain among the vampires. You’ll be … elevating Eve to a new status. It could protect her, or it could make her even more of a target. You understand?”
Michael nodded. “I understand,” he said.
“And you don’t want to wait.”
“No.” Michael didn’t say anything else, but, Claire thought, he didn’t need to. He’d come ready for this. There weren’t any tuxedos, or gowns; Michael had pulled out a dark suit, a gleaming white shirt, and a nice tie. He’d forced Shane to wear one, too, somehow; there must have been some arm-twisting that Claire hadn’t been privy to, but then she’d been busy rooting through Eve’s closet with her, trying to come up with something wedding-appropriate at a moment’s notice.
Eve had her gown. It was red chiffon, and it fell in waves from a beaded bodice. Her arms were bare, and she hadn’t gone with a veil at all. The dress, Claire thought, made her look about six feet tall, and incredibly graceful, but it was shockingly not wedding wear.
Which was what Eve had wanted, of course.
Claire was wearing her best dress—one with buckles, one that Eve had bought for her—and high heels that were higher than anything she’d ever tried before. She felt awkward, until Shane looked at her, and then the feeling changed into something hot and proud.
“You promised,” she said to Father Joe. “You said that you’d do this if they wanted it. Well, they want it. We’re here. Official witnesses.”
He sighed and nodded. “I’m only warning you that what you’re doing may make complications you haven’t considered. For you all.”
“Don’t care,” Eve said. “We’re ready. And we’re not letting them stop us again.”
Michael was holding Eve’s hand, and although he wasn’t saying much, he was utterly still and solid and there. If he was scared, or worried, it didn’t show at all. He glowed like marble and gold, and for the first time in the light of the candles Claire noticed there were threads of copper in his hair, like his grandfather’s much redder hair. He even looked like Sam just now; Sam, the kindest and best of the vampires, who’d died at the hands of humans.
She hoped that wasn’t some kind of omen.
“Then let’s proceed,” Father Joe said. “Are there rings?”
Shane dug in his pocket and held it up—not the traditional diamond, Claire saw. Eve must have insisted on a ruby. And a skull.
“Then I suppose there’s no turning back. Let us pray,” Father Joe said, and bowed his head.
The door at the back of the church opened, admitting a burst of pure white sunlight, and out of it came four figures. Two were holding umbrellas to shade the others in front, and as they shut the doors behind them Claire recognized the ones in the back as Amelie’s security, dressed in their dark suits and glasses again.
Amelie was wearing white, a blinding white silk suit that tailored itself perfectly to her body. Her hair was up in a pale blond crown around her head, and she wore a ruby pendant in the hollow of her throat.
Oliver was next to her, wearing black leather.
“No,” Eve whispered. “No, not now …”
The vampires walked down the aisle and came to a halt a few feet away. Amelie’s eyes were wide and cool gray, no hints of red, at least. She was wearing white gloves to match her suit.
“What’s this?” she asked in a very neutral tone. “Father?”
“They’ve come before the altar to be joined in marriage,” he said, and for the first time Claire heard strength in his voice. Real strength. “They’re in the presence of God now, Amelie. And not under your control.”